


The Hollow 9

by idyll



Series: The Hollow [10]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Canon, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, M/M, Prostitution, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-12
Updated: 2007-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idyll/pseuds/idyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gunn and Lindsey, trying to settle when things are up in the air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hollow 9

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poisontaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/gifts).



Gunn figures that if life was like the movies then things with him and Lindsey would've magically sorted themselves out when Lindsey crawled into bed with him the night Gunn was released from the hospital.

But life ain't like a movie and by the time Gunn's finally recovered nothing's been sorted and they're both in really foul moods. Gunn blames it partly on the cabin fever; he's been housebound for the last three weeks and Lindsey's stayed with him the entire time, some trips to the grocery store aside. Gunn's used to be out there and seeing action, and Lindsey...well he's used to that, too, but in a different way. This confinement isn't doing either of them any good.

The other part of it is that they're guys, and talking about shit ain't high on their list of things to do, so neither of them is bringing up anything important, and that's a really fucking large elephant to ignore in Gunn's small apartment.

At night they still share Gunn's bed, but there isn't much contact at all between them since about a week in, when Lindsey started holding himself stiff as a board whenever Gunn rolled closer to him. It stung enough that Gunn backed off and he felt bad for it as it kept going on, but he started hoping that maybe the space would give Lindsey some time to deal with whatever was on his mind.

"I got a job," Lindsey says on day twenty-three. He's been out for a few hours--had something to take care of, he said, and Gunn hadn't pushed--and those are his first words when he steps in the door. Gunn looks up from dumping his dinner plate in the sink. Lindsey's face is a strange mixture of discomfort and pride and defiance. "Over at a bar. It's kinda close to that hotel of yours."

"Doing what?" Gunn asks.

Lindsey shrugs and sits on the couch to take off his boots and socks. "Starting out as a bar back. I'll probably wind up tending bar as soon as they'll let me. It's better money, with the tips."

Gunn nods and has no idea what to say. It's like that elephant just stole his words away along with his and Lindsey's ability to be _right there_ with each other, connecting even through misunderstandings and anger and pride. "That's...good, man. Real good. When you starting?"

"Soon as you go back to work, I figure."

Gunn leans back against the counter in his kitchenette and crosses his arms. Lindsey is standing in the living room, fidgeting and looking at anything except Gunn, and pretty soon they'll crawl into bed and keep to their sides of it and he just can't take it anymore. He can't.

"What's going on here, Lindsey?" Gunn asks and even to himself he sounds tired and lost, so he's not surprised when Lindsey's head jerks and he finally looks at Gunn. "We been--I don't even know what we're doing anymore."

Lindseys hands curl into fists and he lowers his lids. "You want me to leave?"

And, god, Lindsey is such a prickly little fuck; this is exactly why Gunn hasn't been in any hurry to bring this up. "No, I gotta say that's about the last damn thing I want." Lindsey stares at him again, eyes narrowed and body tense, and maybe it isn't fair to ask him to talk about this when he's done so much already just by getting off the street and being here, but it has to be done. "Just...give me something, here. How do you see this working? Because I ain't got a damn clue about what you want to happen."

The silence stretches on and on, and Gunn realizes that this is the deciding point. Whatever happens in this moment is going to carry over to every other moment between them. The hell of it is that Gunn doesn't have any idea which way it'll go, doesn't know if Lindsey will decide to be straight with him or play his cards close to his chest, resentful that Gunn doesn't already know what's he's thinking.

Gunn stares at Lindsey, and he looks panicked and trapped, like Gunn's backed him into a corner and is looming over him. Except Lindsey always looks wound up and turned on when that really happens.

"I--" Lindsey stammers out. His accent is thick and noticeable, making it sound like _Ah--_, and his hands are clenched into fists, desperate and lost and frustrated.

When Lindsey still hasn't said anything a few minutes later, Gunn's lungs finally let go of the breath he's been holding and he feels empty and hollow. He stares at Lindsey, who looks helpless and pissed off, for a long moment before turning on his heel, ready to leave the room. Lindsey makes an indecipherable sound, and then there's a flurry of noises right before shuffles in front of Gunn, his jaw tight, his lips pressed into a thin white line, and his hands...

"Jesus, Lindsey."

Lindsey's looped his belt around his wrists, loose and clumsy, and the trailing end is gripped lightly in his hands. Without even thinking, Gunn reaches for it, but freezes mid-motion and tries to clear his head because they have to get things settled between them.

"We need to--" he says, but never finishes the sentence because Lindsey twists his wrists awkwardly and tightens the belt as much as he can. Then he looks Gunn dead in the eye and holds out his hands, offering the lead to Gunn.

The only thing in the world Gunn wants in that moment is to take it, take Lindsey, and he exhales dizzily when he realizes suddenly that this is why things are so tense and edgy. Between the shape Gunn's been in, and the uncertainty that followed it, they haven't done this since Lindsey came to Gunn's hospital room, and even then they didn't even touch each other. Hell, they've hardly touched each other at all in weeks.

Gunn meets Lindsey's eyes and doesn't blink, doesn't look away, as he takes the end of the belt, pulling it tighterandtighterandtighter around Lindsey's wrists. He stops when Lindsey shudders and drops his chin to his chest, then hauls him forward.

"We'll do this," Gunn says hoarsely, dipping his head to talk right into Lindsey's ear. "But you still owe me an answer, because this ain't it."

Lindsey lifts his head and arches a brow, his lips sketching out a faint smile. "Sure it is."

And maybe it is, because when Gunn jerks on the belt, Lindsey's eyes damn near _shatter_ like tempered glass, cracks of silver shards spider-webbing through his irises, and for the first time in weeks he and Lindsey are _right there_ with one another.

Gunn cups the back of Lindsey's neck with his free hand, and Lindsey's head falls forward again. He groans against Gunn's chest, soft and wet and needy, and Gunn walks them into the bedroom, guiding Lindsey by his neck and bound hands.

At the foot of the bed, Gunn unclenches his hands and steps back. Lindsey stumbles almost drunkenly, unsteady on his feet without Gunn to hold him up, without his arms to spread for balance. A light hand on his shoulder, a small bit of pressure, and Lindsey is sprawled on the bed, his knees hooked over the edge and his bare feet resting on the floor.

He turns his head to the side, looks up at Gunn sedately and Gunn realizes that this isn't the Lindsey from the back alleys and motels, but the one from the hospital room. Gunn wonders if it'll always go this way from now on, if Lindsey will break open and split apart so easily. He hopes not. He likes Lindsey defiant, likes ripping his defenses away.

But tonight it's right that Lindsey is there already, in that place where he's boneless and there's an eternity's worth of patience in his eyes, like he could exist just like this for however long Gunn wants. Because, yeah, it's the answer to Gunn's question and the rest of it is just details, nothing more.

Gunn goes to the foot of the bed and stands next to one of Lindsey's knees. Lindsey watches him, pupils blown wide and sparking in their own right, his hands curled lightly into fists, bound wrists resting on his chest.

"Gunn," Lindsey says, thick and sweet and hazy, and his eyes go to Gunn's crotch.

For the first time tonight, Gunn realizes he's hard. More than hard, actually. He feels like he's been fucking for hours, is holding orgasm back by the skin of his teeth. Lindsey arches on the bed, chokes on a noise, and Gunn knows, then, what he wants to do.

He leans down and opens Lindsey's jeans, peels them off and smiles knowingly at the usual lack of underwear. Lindsey's cock is hard and twitchy, jerking under the weight of Gunn's gaze, wet and shiny at the tip.

When Gunn takes hold of the end of the belt again, Lindsey's eyes roll back in his head, and he's nothing but deadweight as Gunn tugs him into a sitting position.

"Okay?" Gunn asks quietly and Lindsey nods, a little dazed and his breathing a little shallow.

Gunn slides Lindsey's t-shirt up his chest, then over his head, until it hangs from Lindsey's forearms, then loosens the belt enough to free Lindsey's right wrist and slide the shirt from that arm. He doesn't want Lindsey free entirely, so he tucks Lindsey's wrist back into the loop of the belt, then tugs the other one free and gets rid of the shirt entirely. He tightens the belt around both of Lindsey's wrists, looser than before because Lindsey's hands are a little cold.

"Lay back," Gunn tells him, and watches Lindsey fall back, a heavy inevitability in the graceful motion. "Move up the bed." Lindsey scoots up until he's in the center of the bed, and Gunn nods approvingly. "Hands over your head and spread your legs."

Lindsey does it, face flushing slightly, and Gunn's lips part in appreciation because, goddamn. Just, yeah.

Gunn stares as he gets undressed, tossing his clothes to the floor and blindly digging through the bedside table. He rips open a condom and clenches his jaw for control as he rolls it down his cock. Lindsey licks his lips and Gunn shakes his head because, no, that's not how he wants it right now, but later. Yeah, later, he'll have Lindsey's mouth.

The lube is cold even through the latex, and slicking himself up takes the edge off enough that Gunn's not in danger of losing it.

When he crawls onto the bed between Lindsey's legs, Lindsey gives a full body shudder that ripples over him and pours out of his mouth in a raspy moan.

"Just like this," Gunn whispers harshly and puts his hands on the insides of Lindsey's thighs. His fingers dig into the thick muscles and Lindsey curses. "Told you I'd do you like this, on your back like a bitch." He lifts his hands and slaps Lindsey hard, dark handprints coloring in the pale skin, and Lindsey _chokes_ and tenses, his back bowing as he strains upwards. Gunn sits back on his heels and curls his fingers into Lindsey's skin, presses his nails in sharp and deep as he can. "Get your ass on my lap."

Lindsey scrambles into motion, bracing his feet on the mattress to drag himself towards Gunn, to lift up and settle himself on the top of Gunn's thighs.

"This what you want, Lindsey?" Gunn asks, clear and serious.

In front of him, Lindsey goes still and blinks several times before meeting Gunn's eyes and nodding. "This." He swallows with a dry click. "Yeah."

"Okay," Gunn says. "Okay."

He takes hold of Lindsey's thighs again, spreading him open with hard hands, and gets them into position. Lindsey goes boneless and glitter-eyed again, and Gunn pushes just the head of his cock inside, and then watches Lindsey's face get slack and needy.

"Give it," Lindsey gasps. "Give it to me, damn it."

Gunn curls his lips and pushes his hips forward, burying himself all the way in Lindsey's sweet ass, and Lindsey arches again, trying for more because he's so fucking greedy.

Gunn gives him shallow strokes that steer clear of his prostate, and Lindsey becomes frustrated by degrees, the blank slackness twisting into a scowl.

"Fuckin' bastard!"

"Dirty mouth you got there," Gunn says calmly and circles his hip teasingly.

"Fuck me, you son of a bitch, do it," Lindsey snarls.

Gunn pushes all the way in again and hooks his arms under Lindsey's knees, hauling him into a better position. Then he swivels his hips, using his grip on Lindsey to rock him back and forth, coming up against Lindsey's prostate every so often. It's not their usual hard fucking, not the usual rough strokes Gunn uses, and Lindsey is gasping and choking under him, unable to get lost in a rhythm because Gunn is just rolling his hips side to side, moving his cock inside Lindsey as much as possible and not leaving his ass even a little.

"Oh," Lindsey groans, "oh, Jesus. Jesus. _Gunn_."

Gunn takes Lindsey's cock in hand and jerks it hard and rough, still sliding and swiveling his hips, and it hardly takes a minute for Lindsey to come, his eyes flying open in surprise, his body heaving with it. With his free hand, Gunn grabs the end of the belt that's next to Lindsey's bound hands and hauls him up on his lap.

Lindsey curses and tries to jerk his hips back to get his sensitive dick out of Gunn's hand, but Gunn won't give it up, won't stop working it, and he shoves his hips up, fucking his dick right against Lindsey's prostate over and over again.

It's so much pleasure that it's pain and Lindsey is convulsing, wincing, screaming from it, trying to get away, but Gunn keeps him right where he is and doesn't let up, because Lindsey's ass is clenching at his dick in this wild uncontrolled rhythm and Gunn likes it too damn much to give it up.

When Gunn gets close, when he knows he's about a dozen strokes away from coming, he pulls Lindsey's face to his and bites his way into Lindsey's mouth.

"Oh, god, please," Lindsey snarls into his mouth.

"What?" Gunn murmurs. "What?"

"Don't stop."

And that's what makes Gunn come, Lindsey begging for it to continue even though there are fucking tears streaming out of his eyes because of pain that's not pain but concentrated pleasure. He groans into Lindsey's mouth, hips freezing as he comes and comes, and on his lap Lindsey is shaking and twitching, breathing too fast and hard, sweating so profusely that it's like his whole body is crying from it.

"Jesus," Gunn gasps. "Lindsey."

He helps Lindsey off his lap and settles him on his side in the center of the bed. Lindsey curls in on himself, twitching violently and fighting to take deep breathes. Gunn runs a hand down his side, hardening the soft touch when Lindsey cries out and almost pulls away.

"It's okay," he says, his voice as firm as his touch now is. He lies on his side and Lindsey rolls against his chest. Gunn wraps his arm around him and rubs his back. "Easy. Take it easy."

When Lindsey's settled down, Gunn goes to the bathroom and comes back with a couple of wash clothes and towels. He cleans Lindsey as best he can when Lindsey is boneless and hardly able to do anything more than smile vaguely and blink contentedly. Gunn's own smile is satisfied and smug, and doesn't seem to want to leave his face.

"This," Lindsey says a short while later. "And other stuff."

It takes Gunn a second to make sense of what Lindsey's saying and he pushes Lindsey onto his back and leans over him. He touches Lindsey's face with the fingers of one hand, tracing his features slowly. "Good," Gunn says. "That's pretty much what I want, too."

He leans down then, and he and Lindsey have kissed a couple of times, but they've never done it post-coital, and it's slow and lazy and thick-tongued--promise and acknowledgement and a lot of other things that they'll eventually get around to saying.

After a while Lindsey's mouth gets clumsy and awkward, and in the second it takes Gunn to pull away and look at him, he's fallen asleep. Gunn laughs a little and then touches the worn leather belt that's still looped around Lindsey's wrists. He loosens it enough to see that there are already bruises coming up on the tender skin. Curiously, he lifts his head and, yeah, Lindsey's thighs have a distinctive set of markings coming up on them, too.

He thinks about all the things he wants to do to Lindsey, with Lindsey, and how most of those things don't even involve sex, and falls asleep stroking his marks on Lindsey's skin.

.End


End file.
